


Flayed open like a bug on the dissecting table

by melonbutterfly



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-05
Updated: 2011-01-05
Packaged: 2017-10-14 11:03:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/148610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melonbutterfly/pseuds/melonbutterfly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And John doesn't want to say it, has never planned to actually say it, but, he thinks, is this feeling for himself only? Even if it hurts, there should at least come something good out of it for somebody, even if that somebody isn't John.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flayed open like a bug on the dissecting table

John doesn't want to say it, he never intended to say it, but here he is, here _Rodney_ is, beating himself up over his flaws and imperfections, and this time he is seriously down. There isn't even a reason; no recent break-up or rejection, he isn't drunk, nothing to explain this as anything else as months – years, perhaps even – of negative thoughts reaching a new low.

And John doesn't want to say it, has never planned to actually say it, but, he thinks, is this love for himself only? Can he let Rodney continue to think that nobody who gets to know the real him will ever want to be romantically involved with him? That he is only _superficially attractive_ at best?

Of course he can't, of course he can't. This feeling has been hurting him for so long now, he thinks, there should at least be coming something positive out of it for _somebody_ , if not him. And perhaps Rodney will be uncomfortable, will stop their friendship because it feels just a tat bit too weird to him; that is one of the reason John has never talked about this before, never even given a hint. (The other is that he has a really hard time baring himself open.) But he can't let Rodney hurt like that when there is something to make him feel better, evidence that he really is a loveable person since he _is_ being loved by somebody, even if it's somebody whose feelings he does not, can not return.

John never leaves a man behind.

"Rodney," he says, and his voice sounds a little raw, a little quiet, and he clears his throat, looks away form where Rodney sits on his chair, looking at him with doubt and suspicion in his eyes – he is waiting for platitudes, probably, platitudes that John has offered him in the past. "Rodney," he says again. "I do not- I never wanted to tell you this," he says, and "I want you to know that I'm not expecting anything from you." It's pretty much like saying "I love green jello"; you are making a statement, letting the people around you know that you love green jello without expecting them to express their own love for green jello. And green jello won't tell you it loves you back, either. John knows this.

"John, will you stop beating around the bush?", Rodney says, sounding tired and irritated, "Because-"

"I love you," John says and looks at the floor, at the wall, not at the ceiling and certainly not at Rodney. It feels like throwing up, like the words forced their way out of his throat, across is tongue and over his lips, leaving a bitter taste and a faint nausea. "And I mean that in an entirely non-un-sexual way."

The silence trickles by; John counts and doesn't remember the number of seconds that pass until Rodney clears his throat and speaks, saying "John-" and not much more.

John nods and puts his hands in his lap, not having anything else to say.


End file.
